Melome

'I've heard of it.'

'If you're smart you'll leave it at that.' She was bitter. 'If there are worse places I've yet to find them. Burn during the day, freeze at night, fighting insects, rot, mildew and, if you don't eat what walks, crawls or flies they'll eat you. Like they did my parents. My kin.'

'It happens.'

'Too often,' she agreed. 'But I guess I was lucky. The man who took me in intended me for something else but an agent of the circus landed and offered a good price. I guess he could see more than others. He had me taught, trained, and-well, that's about it.' She swallowed some of her wine. 'And you, Earl?'

'Much the same as yourself. I ran away.'

'From home? Your world? Which was it?' She frowned at his answer. 'Earth? That's an odd name. I've never heard of it. And now?'

'I move around.'

'Just that? Don't you do anything else?'

Managing to stay alive. Dodging the hunters. Searching for clues which would guide him back home. Things he left unsaid.

'I'm looking.'

'For what? Happiness?' She shrugged as she lifted her glass. 'Isn't that what we're all doing? Hoping to find that elusive something which will make everything wonderful? Sometimes you think you've found it then, when you feel most secure, everything falls apart.' As it had when Hayter had died. As it threatened to do now-why was he so cold? 'Earl!'

Dumarest said, 'I haven't forgotten what you said before Ruval attacked.'

'Then-'

'I'm honored. More than that-overwhelmed.' He paused, sensing her inner turmoil, conscious of the danger it created. A proud woman who, rejected, could become a vicious enemy. The only ally he had in the world of the circus and even now he wasn't sure if she worked for Zucco or not. 'Reiza, I-'

'Don't say it!' Wine slopped over her hand to stain the cloth with the color of blood. 'If it's a rejection I don't want to hear it. Just get up and leave.'

Her, the table, the circus, Melome, his chance of finding Earth.

Dumarest said, 'When I leave we go together. I was going to suggest we do it now.'

'Earl!' Happiness sparkled in her eyes. 'Earl, darling, you-' She broke off, frowning as a man halted at the table. He held a parcel and wore a sigil on his blouse. The mark of Chen Wei. 'What do you want?'

'The man.' He looked at Dumarest. 'You are to accompany me at once to the office of Tayu Shakira.'

It was a place filled with an indefinable scent which hung like a ghostly emanation in the air. One composed of subtle spices, of flavors, smokes, blooms, the taint of flesh, the hint of seas. The perfume of a thousand worlds which the circus had known inhaled by the man who sat behind a wide desk. He gestured toward a chair and waited until Dumarest had seated himself and the guide had left them alone.

'You are well, I trust?'

'Well.'

'And comfortable?'

'Very.'

The truth; the parcel the guide had carried had contained his clothes, refurbished and as good as new. Only the knife had been missing and, as he watched, Shakira lifted it from somewhere behind the desk and set it down before him.

'A fine blade,' he said. 'One worth studying.'

As he was himself and Dumarest, ignoring the knife, searched the man with his eyes.

Tall, slender, a skull topped with raven hair sweeping back from a point between and above the eyes. High brows sheltered deep-set orbs in slanted sockets. The nose was thin, predatory, the mouth a gash. The skin, olive, held a mesh of tiny lines which added to the mask-like appearance of the face.

'You are a fighter,' he said. 'And have used this knife to kill. Often?'

'Only when necessary.'

'Of course.' A thin hand reached from the wide sleeve of a blouse marked with an arabesque of gold on a background of lavender. 'And yet you drew it here in the circus. An unusual thing to happen on Baatz where violence is rare.'

Dumarest said, dryly, 'My experiences hardly justify that statement.'

'You miss the point. The air within the circus is filtered and those who work here are sheltered from the enervating influence of the outside atmosphere. Visitors carry their apathy with them. You did not. Either you are proof against the external vapors or are able to rise above their influence. I suspect the latter. Tell me, now, and be honest. Have you made no errors since landing?'

Too many and Dumarest admitted it.

'Good.' Shakira was pleased. 'If you had been immune it would have proved nothing. As it is you have adapted to a potentially dangerous environment. Dangerous for you, that is, and for all who have enemies. Think of a snake,' he urged. 'A master of movement over sand and rock. But set it on a sheet of oiled glass and it is helpless. It can only writhe and squirm, easy prey for any predator. So, for a while on this world, you were at a disadvantage. Here!' The knife spun glittering through the air. Dumarest caught it an inch from his face. 'Fast too,' mused Shakira. 'The reports did not lie.'

'Reports from whom?'

'Those who need to make them.' Shakira dismissed the subject with a small gesture. 'There are questions you wish to ask?'

Only one of importance but if the owner knew as much as he claimed then he would know of Dumarest's interest in Melome. He hadn't mentioned that and subtlety was a game two could play.

Dumarest said, casually, 'I'm surprised the circus is so large. I wouldn't have thought Baatz capable of supporting it. But I guess you rely on the concessions.'

'You've worked in circuses?'

'Carnivals.'

'It is not the same.'

'Maybe not,' agreed Dumarest. 'But I've never known a circus which doesn't have sideshows. Basically it's all the same. When you come down to it what else is a circus but entertainment? So, logically, everything goes. It all belongs.'

'Not in the circus of Chen Wei.'

'But-'

'We move,' said Shakira. 'We travel from world to world and with us, like those small limpets which cling to the leviathans of the deep oceans, come the purveyors of common entertainment. They are mere appendages-if lost the circus would not suffer.'

'And the circus itself?'

'A compilation of the unusual. Of the rare and particular. The ordinary has no place among us. Each represents the apex of his art.'

Dumarest said, 'Like Zucco?'

'He has his skills.'

'I think I can guess what they are. And you?'

'I have my talent. I have it as you have it as every living creature has it. That special attribute which sets it above its fellows. The ability to sing sweeter, run faster, see more clearly, swim farther, dive deeper, kill faster- always there is something. Usually it is a small advantage and one negated when set against a greater development but, always, it is there. Here, in the circus, are those who have learned what they are good at and have excelled beyond all others in doing it. Others have yet to train and develop their skills; buds swelling toward full bloom. As for myself?' Shakira made a small gesture. 'My skill lies in recognizing the potential of others. Your own, for example.'

'You flatter me.'

'That would be stupid. It would be even more stupid to refuse to recognize the obvious. It is a mistake I never make.' Again Shakira made the small gesture, lifting both hands in an upward movement. 'You have more